


Bassist Wanted

by brightblackholes



Series: Music To My Ears [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Gen, bassist!blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 02:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightblackholes/pseuds/brightblackholes
Summary: Written for Writer's Month 2019 day 1: AnnoyanceOr: How Blue ends up joining the band.





	Bassist Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> I knew as soon as I started writing "Music to My Ears" that I wouldn't be able to let the universe go after just one story. Expect to see a few more. Here is a prequel where Blue manages to both be annoyed by the boys and weasel her way into the band.
> 
> I'm participating in Writer's Month this year (the first ever year of it!), and this was written from the prompt "Annoyance."

Blue hears the bell over Nino’s door jingle and almost turns around to greet the customer before she hears a bright laugh. Unfortunately, it’s familiar to her by now, and it belongs to possibly one of her least favorite people in Virginia. She takes a deep breath and turns around to do her job anyway.

“Welcome to Nino’s,” she tells the trio. “Want the usual booth?”

“Yes please,” the rich boy wearing boat shoes (whos name happens to be Gansey, _not_ that Blue has been paying attention) says. Blue turns with the menus and rolls her eyes. He’s been nothing but polite since that first encounter, but she can’t get over the prostitute comparison. Not even his mortified face once she pointed it out could soften the blow.

She takes their drink order without incident, then gives them a few minutes with the menu. She doesn’t know why they need it, since they only have three types of pizza that they rotate between and they definitely had ample time in that atrocious orange camaro to decide, but it’s like this every time they come in.

It’s annoying. Blue would think they’re being deliberately antagonizing if she wasn’t fully aware that a lowly waitress probably isn’t even on the radar of three private school boys.

Blue checks in on one of her other tables before grabbing the drinks. Mrs. Markle and her nightmare grandchildren provide a welcome distraction, especially when one of the kids spills their milk right as she arrives. Still, it’s hard to fully tune out the conversation in the booth over, especially once boat-shoe boy mentions music.

Blue has always had an interest in music. Being a psychic doesn’t always pay the bills, so basically everyone she lives with also has a second job, and most of them are in the music industry. Maura met Calla and Persephone on a small tour, where Calla ran lights, Persephone ran sound, and Maura helped boss the roadies around. Music attracts psychics almost like Blue does, so she’s grown up surrounded.

Blue isn’t a psychic, but she could be a musician. She doesn’t want to be pushed to the background in that industry, too.

“I really think we should go for it,” the smudgy one (Noah, who would probably be Blue’s favorite if she liked any of them) says as Blue tries to use napkins to keep the milk from hitting the child’s lap. “We have some great songs. Let’s get them recorded and start focusing on the band in ernest.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do,” the third one says. Blue loses the rest of the conversation when she goes to refill the kid’s milk and grab the trio’s drink order. When she comes back, they’re discussing what sounds like recording studios with their heads a bit closer together.

“Do you want to order now?” Blue asks.

“That would be wonderful,” Gansey says. He smiles pleasantly and tells her one of their usual orders, and Blue tells it to the cook. She tries to ignore their table, but they’re still talking about recording music when she gives Mrs. Markle the check.

Maura has a few connections to recording studios that she’s cultivated over the years. Blue could offer them suggestions on who would let them record for the best rate-to-condition ratio, but it isn’t her place. Besides, she doubts that they would blink twice at paying an unnaturally high price. In her experience, rich private-school boys rarely have a good awareness of how much things should cost.

They’re still hashing out details when Blue brings out the pizza.

“We still need a bassist, though,” Gansey says, shuffling silverware out of the way so Blue can slide the pan onto the table. He gives her another winning smile as she does so, and Blue finds herself asking a question before she can stop it.

“What do you need a bassist for?”

The boys glance at each other.

“We’re planning on recording an EP,” Gansey says finally. “Ronan can play guitar and Noah is wonderful on the drums, but none of us are overly confident on the bass, unfortunately.”

Blue sets extra napkins on the table.

“I play bass.”

Ronan snorts.

Blue feels her annoyance and temper flare again.

“What, can’t believe a girl would pick up a bass?” she snaps.

“No, because Noah says he can play clarinet but I’d rather go deaf than listen,” Ronan says.

“Hey,” Noah replies. By Ronan’s grumble, Blue assumes that Noah kicked him under the table.

“I’ve been playing since I could walk. I’d say I’m pretty good, but if you’re going to be insulting about it I can just grab you a refill of Coke instead,” she says.

“Wait!” Gansey says, hand shooting out but not touching her. “We’d love to hear you play, and if it works out you’d definitely get paid for the studio time.”

Blue considers him, with his perfect hair and bright eyes and unfairly straight white teeth.

“I’ll play for you, but if I record with you I don’t want you to pay me. I want to be in the band.”

Gansey glances at Noah. Noah glances at Ronan. Ronan looks up like the ceiling is more interesting than this conversation, which it could be to him. Noah looks back at Gansey and says “I’m okay with it. I like her.”

“Alright,” Gansey says. “Can you come to our practice next Thursday? I could pick you up, if that works better.”

“Thursday I get off at 5. You can meet me here.”

Gansey nods, and he looks pleased. Blue brushes it off and refills their drinks, then ignores the interested look from her coworker when the trio waves as they leave, with Gansey calling behind him that they’ll see her later.

When Blue leaves, she can feel her fingers itch with the urge to break out her bass as soon as she gets home. This could be her chance. Even if a band full of Aglionby boys is likely to flop on its face, it could mean exposure for her: a springboard to other projects that could actually work out.

If it isn’t, hopefully at least she’ll learn how to be around them without that twinge of annoyance in her gut.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
